<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Self Destruction by robotnoy</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767961">Self Destruction</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotnoy/pseuds/robotnoy'>robotnoy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Found Family, Gen, M/M, Other, Pining, spoilers for episode 8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:53:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>564</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotnoy/pseuds/robotnoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Endings are bittersweet</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Baby Yoda &amp; The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune &amp; The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), IG-11 (Star Wars) &amp; The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), IG-11 (Star Wars)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Kuiil (Star Wars) &amp; The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Self Destruction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fear, fear always. Fear and anger at the life stolen from him, the lives of his loved ones. Waking dreams as a child, waking nightmares of monstrous metal creatures, studded with knives and blaster cannons, glowing red eyes. These eyes are different, glowing curious, whimsical. Din is exasperated with the histrionics of the bot, grudgingly respectful of his help.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He guns him down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The child is the priority, first in his mind, filling his heart. He is an imperfect guardian, Din is weighed down by the anxiety of his mission, they have to keep moving, fighting, hiding. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He is alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Until, he isn’t. Cara sticks around, she is a friend, a fellow protector. Kuiil is too. And with Kuiil comes </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Din doesn’t trust so easily as that, but he trusts Kuiil for some reason. Perhaps the Ugnaught has given him no reason not to in all the time they know each other. Perhaps Kuiil would’ve made a good mandalorian himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It matters not, he is gone now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cara carries him, she won’t leave him; she cares so much beneath the toughness of her skin, tattooed into her body like the ink on her bicep. She refuses to let him die a warrior’s death. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>IG-11 refuses to let him die at all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He is a dead man with a beskar coffin, he is not alive, IG-11 is not alive. How could a droid be, tender as his metal digits are…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He is exhumed, dragged from the soil by a firm hand.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I need to remove your helmet.”</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“It is… forbidden. No living thing has seen me without my helmet.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I am not a living thing.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing is between them, the wall of beskar and transperisteel torn apart and he is left raw, naked, his emotions bare across his battered face. The bacta spray is like the barest brush of lips on his forehead, strong limbs hoist him out of the flames and cradle his healing body.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He is safe when the droid is near. He does not think this, he does not know, but his anxious mind quiets. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The child is his world, his first waking thought, his last fitful dream. For once Din feels at rest, despite the danger at every turn. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This world has a price, as all things do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I can no longer carry this for you."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And the weight of it, he cries out, his heart, his soul. The manda would take him, the cosmos would take others, the droid would be dust. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Purpose, purpose, programming and purpose. Din was like him, they were one, indentured to a code, to coding. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"We need you,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> He says, I need you, he breathes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“There's nothing to be sad about, I’ve never been alive.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not… sad.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes you are.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His voice wavers, betrays him, his face is slick with sweat and crying, hidden. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he walks through the fire once again, burning, burning, strong and tall, beautiful and tender. Burning tears tear his skin, wrending his cheeks beneath beskar. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Time, there is no more time. He is undone in his silence, his body as a vibroblade, aching to move, pull him from the river. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Time, there is no more time. No more time for him, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. For this family he has forged from scraps of beskar and blood. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He is the most living of all things in the galaxy to Din. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>